


A Healthy Relationship

by AnotherAnon0



Series: A Complicated Affair [3]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Boot Worship, Choking, Heavy BDSM, Implied/Referenced Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, M/M, Master/Slave, One Shot, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Top Wesker/Bottom Sergei, Top!Wesker/Bottom!Sergei, Verbal Sex, Vibrators, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: A quick, nasty Sergei/Wesker to combat my writer's block.[Part of a series of Sergei/Wesker one-shots that do not need to be read in any order]
Relationships: Sergei Vladimir/Albert Wesker
Series: A Complicated Affair [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827997
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	A Healthy Relationship

Humans are odd creatures. 

So fragile, yet so incredibly resilient. 

Albert thought it was ironic that those who had been shattered and pieced back together sloppily were often the most resilient of them all -- as though the trauma acted like a glue through which the fragments could bind together and strengthen. 

But, he reminded himself, the pieces were still shattered. 

A tiny, gasping squeak pulling Albert from the distant place in his head he'd been exploring intently, eyes cast towards the fluorescent yellow _BIOHAZARD_ sign painted on the steel wall of the repurposed bunker. His eyes fluttered down his nose slowly, gaze condescendingly plucking down his chin. 

"Something to say?" He droned smarmily, tapping the leather riding crop against his thigh impatiently

When Sergei didn't reply, Albert cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips as though disappointed with the silence. 

As though his boot wasn't firmly placed on the older man's neck, and had been for some time. 

As though the flush of red which had washed over Sergei's cheeks wasn't beginning to gradient towards the slightest shade of quiet violet. 

Lying on the floor, Sergei's fingers had been dancing along the leather of Albert's boot delicately in a silent, weakened plea for air for several minutes. Albert watched the digits tremble over the toe with amusement, the knowledge the Colonel was actively fighting the urge to rip it away from his throat forcing him to suppress a smile. 

Voluntary surrender. A beautiful thing.

They both knew Albert could never overpower him unless Sergei wanted him to.

And he _did_ want him to. 

Twisting his heel slightly, Albert dug it deeper into the delicate flesh of Sergei's neck. It prompted another inconsequential squeak to flutter from the paling lips. A shudder was rippling through the older man’s belly, one Albert immediately recognised as abject ecstasy, even if he ignored how Sergei's strained erection was smearing cum across his thighs and hips with every little twitch. 

And he _was_ ignoring it.

Albert began to focus intently on the glimmer of fading moisture faintly reflecting the dim lights of the lab off of his boot. A mingling mix of saliva and cum, still drying from worship. The blonde pouted sarcastically.

"My boots are losing their shine. You'll have to clean them again later, Sergei."

A fleeting, whimpering noise bubbled from below.

"Confirm."

"--s, M--ter..." Barely audible and cracked beyond intelligibility, Sergei struggled over the words pathetically.

_Good enough._

Sergei's eyes fluttering, Albert knew it was time to remove his boot, but doing so was almost difficult, not unlike ripping off a bandaid. With a harsh jerk, Albert dragged himself off the bruised flesh, forcing his involuntary sigh to release through his nose. The Russian immediately began coughing, gasping, groaning gutturally as the sudden rush of hair burned through his dry throat. 

"Can't have you disappearing on me again..." Albert lifted his free hand to adjust the collar of his dark dress shirt, still fiddling with the riding crop in his other. The room was suddenly too warm.

Heaves continued to wrack Sergei's chest, face slipping away from the blue-ish tinge it had taken on and returning to a desperate red flush. Albert watched him writhe on the floor, incredible muscles contracted tightly and standing through the flesh, casting statue-like contours across his body. 

Albert silently counted seconds, determining twenty-five as being a more than adequate period for respite. It had been ten. He wasn't trying to let the man recuperate fully, just enough to continue the evening without the immediate risk of him blacking out again. He'd forgotten to bring the smelling salts tonight. 

_Fourteen_.

The gasping was reverberating off of the walls, tinnily echoing through the hollow nothingness.

_Fifteen_. 

Albert dedicated a moment to wonder when Sergei had first been broken. He assumed it was on one wretched battlefield or another, the same ones that had branded him a flesh canvas of furious scars painting slashes of red, brown, and silver across every inch of his otherwise beautiful body. Sometimes Sergei would launch into desperate pleas in a mangled mix of Russian and English, eyes clenched tightly, sweat beading down his temples, as though he were somewhere else in his mind. Albert had learned not to pay much mind to it. Sergei told him not to. 

_Twenty_.

Sergei's unscarred eye flashed up, deep, ragged breaths still quaking through him.The older man's gaze was able to penetrate the dark layer of glass obscuring Albert's eyes in ways no one else's could. 

_Twenty-five._

"On your hands and knees. Now."

While Sergei immediately began complying with the bark of an order, shakily turning over to prop himself up on limbs trembling from oxygen deprival, Albert immediately snorted in discontent. He brought a boot up to kick at the older man's side, prompting a weakened yelp as Sergei fell onto his side.

" _ **Confirm**_!!"

"Y-yes, Master." He meekly peeped, reorienting himself quickly, "Sorry, Master."

Albert smirked, the tip of his tongue running from corner to corner of his lower lip. Sergei normally had a bellowing, commanding rumble of a voice, one that struck fear into the hearts of every Umbrella staffer unfortunate enough to cross his path. In any other occasion, his accent, a beautiful, dripping roll like honey leaking from a comb, vibrated giddily through heartstrings and anxious brains.

But _this_ was not normal, nor was it was it any other occasion.

Now, his voice was compromised. Tiny. Accent jagged and cracked. It hushed past his lips in a breathy whine, reduced to insignificance. 

Albert began to run the end of his riding crop along Sergei's back, sighing contently at the shudder that followed the cool leather sizzling along the warm body. 

So many stripes, old and new, ones poorly healed and some still welted. They contrasted beautifully against his pale flesh, as did the riding crop. Albert brushed the tail across a set of relatively new lashes, tapping them lightly in a mocking threat. 

"Such a mess, Sergei." Albert clicked his tongue against his teeth condescendingly.

"I am sorry, Master."

Albert cracked his neck, smirk still firmly planted on his cheeks as his free hand dipped into his jacket pocket. Loose fingers pulled out the small, rectangular remote he'd stashed there, quickly glancing down to the simple interface and running his thumb over the largest button. It pressed in with relative ease, a chipper _click_ accompanying the light pressure applied to it.

"G-aah!" 

Sergei's attempts to reposition himself were immediately stifled, arms buckling and back arching as the vibrator sprung to life inside of him, sending a shockwave of heat through his insides. The faint, rumbling _buzz_ of the device was faintly audible through his gasps, a high-pitched _whirr_ accompanying the rapid speed that tickled Albert's ears. 

"You thought I forgot about that, didn't you?" Albert chuckled sadistically, "How does that feel?"

Sergei was working to prop himself back up on his hands, body quivering as he attempted to re-assume the position he'd been ordered into. 

"G-go-good, Master."

"It was cute, watching you squirm around at the board meeting today..." Albert chuckled, recalling the momentary expression of abject horror that had flashed over the Colonel's face when the vibe had been activated while he was in the middle of an announcement about B.O.W requisitions, "I think this is the longest you've ever worn your _toy_. Isn't that right?"

"Y-yes, M-master."

Sergei's cock was leaking onto the dark floor, obscene tendrils of white dripping in pearly ropes as he fought off the impending orgasm swelling in his belly. He knew he wasn't allowed to cum without Albert's explicit permission, though the younger man always took pleasure in forcing him to disobey.

Albert slipped the riding crop downwards, prodding at the strained erection cruelly. Sergei sucked breath in through his teeth at the light contact, a lead lump in his throat forming as he felt every childish poke hurling him closer to a line he was forbidden from crossing.

"A bit needy, are you?" He jeered, sighing loudly as though irritated with the sight. In one fluid motion, Albert stepped over the wide breadth of Sergei's back before sitting, straddling him tightly between his thighs. The older man hiccuped slightly as Albert's weight bore down on him, pressing into the unhealed whip wounds along his spine uncomfortably.

"Get used to it."

"Yes, Master."

Albert lay the crop down over Sergei's shoulder blades, letting his fingernails dance and scrape along the scars as he trailed his hands back towards him. When the digits had made their way close to where his thighs were spread, Albert massaged them away from Sergei's spine, letting them wrap around his sides, kneading the flesh contently. Beneath them, he began to feel the slightest _buzz_ reverberate up into his palms, prompting a bark-like laugh to involuntarily slip from his throat.

"I can feel it vibrating through you." He leaned down, whispering in amusement. "I wonder what it would be like to fuck you while it's in there, hmm?" 

Sergei's swallow was audible.

"Would you like that..?" Another hushed whisper leaked slowly from his cock-lipped sneer, "Would you like it if I fucked it _deeper_ into you?"

" _D-da_ , Master."

Albert leaned down, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Sergei's sweat-dampened silver hair. He abruptly jerked the Colonel's head back, until his lips were inches away from the shell of his ear. Beneath him, Sergei's over-extended back was threatening to buckle. 

"How long would you last if I just let it there..." He murmured sardonically, not expecting a response, "I could cut your attitude down whenever I wanted. With the press of a button."

The guttural moan Sergei released was satisfactory. 

Beneath them, his clammy palms were desperately trying to keep stable on the slippery floor as Albert's weight shifted across his tired back unevenly. 

"How long until you were nothing but a broken fuckdoll?"

Another gasping, desperate moan accompanied Albert roughly releasing the hair he'd been gripping far-too-tightly, dropping the older man's head down with an unconcerned aggression. 

Slowly, Albert lifted himself to his feet with a sigh, carefully stepping over Sergei's body until he was standing to one side. He leaned down and plucked his neglected riding crop from where it had been abandoned on the makeshift table of the Colonel's shoulders. A confident few steps brought him to stand above Sergei's bowed head, where he looked down upon the sight with a renewed smirk.

"But I suppose you're already my broken fuckdoll, aren't you?"

"Yes, Master."

The tail of the crop slipped its way beneath Sergei's chin, pulling it up until he was able to assess his face. The red flush swiped across his cheeks and nose was magnificent -- a beet-red stain of lust. 

The gaze they exchanged was an odd one -- one with no particular context or purpose. One that felt strangely out of place, as if _any_ of their interactions truly _had_ a place in space and time. There was something glimmering at the back of Sergei's unscarred eye, half-lidded in a perverse haze of desire -- a contentedness Albert would never admit he would lament the loss of one day.

He cleared his throat, pushing away the thought of the inevitable fate they'd both meet like he always did. 

He hated that he knew Sergei was doing the same thing.

"My boots need another shining." 

"Yes, Albert."

**Author's Note:**

> Switching between Sergei topping and Sergei bottoming has been my jam lately. Which is a more attractive thing? I usually top Sergei with Nicholai but bottom him with Wesker, no idea why.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed thank you for reading!
> 
> Laughing so hard at the size difference between these two boys as well.


End file.
